Unwanted Change
by Xnighite
Summary: This story deals with Marcus Fenix of "Gears of War" taking on a horrendous change, and trying to deal with it without alerting his comrades. As he struggles with his own personal war and the war of Sera, things can become quiet ugly when secrets are kept. Will he lose his life to his comrades, or will his new hellish lifestyle take over his mind?


Unwanted Change

Author: Xnighite

Warning(s): violence/ gore, strong language, ideologically sensitive

Rating: 17+

Disclaimer: I do not own "Gears of War 1, 2 or 3" nor any of its characters; however the "crazy" scenarios and "things" are mine ^3^) enjoy!

Takes place in beginning of "Gears of War 3"

Note: This is my first horror fan-fiction (^-^ yay!) so please don't come after me too badly; it doesn't have many errors, but if you can, please point those errors out for me so I can fix them, and thanks for the read!

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This story deals with Marcus Fenix of "Gears of War" taking on a horrendous change, and trying to deal with it without alerting his comrades. As he struggles with his own personal war and the war of Sera, things can become quiet ugly when secrets are kept.

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Chapter 1

The gentle sounds of swaying water surrounded the gigantic vessel as it sailed across the peaceful ocean. Their new home was but built for the sea, but what of the Stalks that have been recently coming up, protruding like jagged barbs from the ocean floor?

Marcus hesitantly shoved the thought to the back of his still mind and brought back his full attention to the meeting. Iron walls made up the space with some bookshelves and a desk hugging them. A set of windows gazed into the room letting some of the sun's warm rays in. A long, smooth wooden table balanced on the middle of the floor, everyone huddling around, as if it was the secret to their prayers.

Only half of the ex-Gears that were part of his team were present; Baird, Sam, and Cole were in the workshop, Cole keeping a close eye on the two. Dom, Anya, and C. Carmine were listening attentively to Hoffman going over data about supplies and such. All he wanted to do was find a quiet place to rest. The stress was finally seeping into his mental barriers.

"…and that is where we hit those fuckin' Strandeds if they try to make off with some of the supplies again… Alright, dismiss." Hoffman huffed as he finished his 'small' speech. He looked more exhausted than he let on. Everyone was starting to feel the stress take over, some more than others.

Marcus gratefully left the meeting taking in the fresh, yet dank air of the ship. A small buzzing noise started to play in the back of his head. He tried to push it away, but it persisted.

"Hey, Marcus," Dom said as he caught up to him, walking side-by-side, out further into the ship's hull, "do you know where Baird is? He was supposed to give me my spade back days ago." Dom then chuckled to himself, "What would he need it for anyways?"

Marcus just glances at him and said, "He's in the workshop." Dom then placed his right hand quickly on Marcus' shoulder and removed it just as fast. A small sign of appreciation always passed among them.

Dom then jogged away from Marcus, down through the corridor and towards the workshop, which was a good distance away, throwing a 'thanks' over his shoulder. Marcus just signed and kept at his small, but graceful pace towards his barracks as Dom turned the corner.

The sound slowly grew in volume causing him to stop and look around. Nothing was coming through his comm. link. Marcus then stands still trying to remember where he recognized the sound. The buzzing then surged into his head and the noise became unbearable.

Marcus threw his hands over his ears as a tight squeezing pain filled him. Oh, shit! I fucking forgot about the pest!

Marcus then starts jogging towards the barracks, one hand bracing against his head. Out of fear and panic for his ship mates and squad, he did not want them to look upon his disagreeable form for the next hour or so.

He had forgotten about the parasite that had invaded him from one of his missions in some forgotten place fighting the Lambents. He was estimating that it came from them at least. The little bastard liked to contort his body in such a physical displeasure that he knew if anyone saw him, he would be mistaken as something close to a Locust. However, he only managed to stay in the monstrous state for a few hours, giving him enough time to find a place to rest and force himself to sleep until his body changed back to its original state.

He figured out that he can only keep it suppressed for a few days, but he had forgotten about the time limit of which it might occur again. At the moment, he had contemplated if he should tell one of the medics or anyone else for that matter. They might, on an extremely slim chance, be able to help him out of this predicament.

Another sharp pain jolted through his head. Probably not a good idea to tell them about it today… He had contracted the parasite about two weeks ago from now. One of the Lambents had pierced his shoulder with its grueling appendage.

I'm not going to be able to hold it back much longer, he suddenly realized. Marcus had to think up of something, and fast. He could only suppress it for a few more minutes until the full blown change occurred and took over completely.

In the small window between the completed shift and regaining his mind back, he blacks out. He has a pretty decent feeling, however, that he becomes incredibly dangerous as evidence of equipment, and surrounding objects are destroyed. As he turned around the corner, grasping the wall now in a desperate manner, he spots an open door a few feet ahead. Signing with relief, he quickly makes his way towards the room, and realizes he had stumbled on the only place on the ship that he truly wanted to avoid at the moment.

The workshop.

As he peered inside, expecting the others to be standing all around, only one Gear sat inside at a desk covered in metal cogs and pieces, with paper thrown all around: Baird. Cursing silently to himself, he forces the pain racking his body to the back of his thoughts, plastering an expression of dullness.

Baird glances up to see him and back to his work as he fits different things together. A soft glow of light radiated across the desk and his armor.

"What do you want, Marcus?" Baird says sarcastically," I'm busy at the moment. If you're looking for Dom, he went to the food court with the others."

Marcus says in the sternest voice he could make without cringing in anymore pain, "Get out. I need the room."

"And why is that?" Baird said abruptly, slamming the table as he stood up to face Marcus. "I'm using the room for important survival reasons for everyone, so why should I stop?" The tension in the air escalated. Marcus then steps into Baird's face, his pupils slowly changing.

It was becoming increasingly harder to hold back. Two sets of slits started to form on his checks. They were inches from slugging each other, and Marcus was going to lose his head when it happened. He had to stop this.

Marcus' voice then dropped down to a deep throttled growl, the parasite's essence leaking into his vocal cords, "Leave. Now."

Baird kept looking Marcus in the eyes, barely registering his pupil dilation, not wanting to pull back. He always loved getting under Marcus' skin. But today, something was very off. It wasn't the normal I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass attitude. No, it was more like he was about to be slaughtered and devoured.

Baird then finally gave in and turned around. He walks back over to the desk, grabs something, and then slowly, painstakingly, leaves the room. As he exited the room, the door behind Baird collided harshly with the wall. Walking away, he turned his head to glance once more at the door; something definitely wasn't right.

**************  
Marcus leans back against the door, letting him slouch a little. He barely made it through that ordeal.

For a second there, he honestly thought he was going to transform and kill Baird. Not that he didn't have it coming to him sometimes.

His body began to shake from the pent-up agony; it was time to release the parasite. He led his weary eyes around the room, checking for cameras or other such devices. He only found one up in the ceiling on the far end. Marcus grabs a metal try that was leaning against the desk and throws it at the camera.

A snap of metal and flashes of jumping electricity gave way as a dull sound bounced off the floor. The lamp's light faltered then went out. Marcus then stands up and starts to move towards the other side of the room, when thousands of painful jabs enveloped his mind and body. He wasn't able to take another step forward as he grabbed his head and fell knee first into the metal alloyed floor. He then bent his body forward, eyes widening.

He'll never get used to this.

**************  
Baird was making his way to the other barrack, with some of his incomplete machines, all the while grumbling to himself when he passed by the security room. An ex-COG solider had stepped out, leaving the video feedbacks unattended.

An idea then leaps into his psyche and, almost uncharacteristically, he formed a wicked smirk. He went into the small space looking for the camera that watched the small workshop. Seconds later, he found the monitor, but was taken aback by the grey haze it was screening. He swiftly sits down in one of the chairs and begins to type away.

Why was the video feed not showing up?

He then finally opened up the last recent feedback, skipping through the quarrel between Marcus and him. Baird then sets the video to normal speed, and smirks even larger to himself as he watched Marcus slump to the floor.

Even the boss-man can lose his cool. He watched as Marcus grabbed something silver and threw it at the screen causing the video feed to go back to its grey display. However, something fixated his attention before Marcus destroyed the camera.

Rolling back the recording, he strains his eyes trying to make out the three white orbs that had suddenly appeared on Marcus' face. One was plastered over his left eye, while two others were right next to it in a vertical pattern. Marcus' other hand was covering the right side of his face.

Baird's eyes then widen at the sudden realization about Marcus' weird behavior. The man never loses his cool that easily now that he thinks about it; maybe there was something seriously wrong with him. That would explain the deadly attitude from earlier.

Worst case scenario, Marcus could have contracted the emulsion sickness that everyone was warned to stay away from.

He then reaches up to his comm. link and said, "Guys, come to the security room, now." There were some scratching noises in the background when someone else radioed in on the team's frequency, "What's got you tied up in knots?" Cole said, allowing a serious tone to broadcast.

"Just get over here, and quick."

**************  
Marcus stayed in the bent-over position until resounding cracks echoed off of his spine. He knew it was only going to be a few minutes of this disgusting experience, but it felt like years were going by.

To where the video camera had fallen, a small red flickering light had appeared on top. Its screen was aimed away from Marcus, and looked directly into the silver metal tray that somehow propped itself against some objects across from it.

A blurry figure could be partly seen reflecting off of the tray, but it could not give away the man sitting on the floor in a defeated manner. Marcus did not notice the light as his eyes were forced to change from being able to see every color of the spectrum, to only a handful of whites, grays, blacks, blues, and greens.

Marcus' back rippled with pain as his armor snapped under the pressure revealing a bluish-gray hide riddled with black elongating spikes. Muscles and bones could be seen shifting around underneath his skin. The knobs of his spine stretched upwards piercing his flesh as Marcus grunted in his ache.

They curled away from his head at a wicked angle, starting from the top and receded down his body, protruding like broken pipes.

With another grunt, Marcus pushes his hands out in front of him allowing his body to slag. His hands curled into claws, gripping the floor for dear life. Muscles and bones could also be seen moving about forcing his hands to become bigger.

The strain of his gloves could no longer bear them as they were shredded into pieces. His fingers then sharpened, but never gave way to nails. Instead they became bony claws covered in his new hide. His skin hardened and changed hues as the new color extended up his arm, enveloping the rest of his body.

He just had to wait a little more until the ordeal was over, he thought. More black spikes sickeningly shot out from his elbows aiming towards his back with yellowish slime falling off them. His arms then bulked up from the ever expanding muscles to compensate for his new growing size.

His face then shudders as the six new eyes became larger, shining in the dim room, with black slits in the center of them. His irises gained a blue hue mixing with his natural ghost color. His nose sunk backwards into his skull until they were nothing more than slits, quivering as air flowed in and out.

His lips and gums fused together until only a toothy grin could be seen. The teeth lengthened becoming jagged blades, while stretching upwards towards his eyes. A purple tongue snaked out of his mouth covered in green spit which leisurely painted the floor in small blotches. On the sides of his head, ears became longer, able to swivel in several directions. Another set of ears then grew out behind them gaining purple tips.

He started to wheeze from the stress his body was enduring; he knew it wasn't over yet. His neck widened and stretched an inch or two forward making him look more serpent-like. His legs then became massive trunks, but slim compared to the rest of him.

Spikes jutted out from his knees and heels in the same manner as his elbows. Marcus' feet then ripped through his boots, elongating until he balanced on his toes. The toes then broadened and pushed out a couple of inches, curling in a claw-like fashion the same as his hands.

His spine then arches again and a tail springs out from behind him, stretching outwards by two meters. Spikes slowly push their way up, covered in glowing yellow slim; they became smaller towards the end of the tail.

As it stretched across the floor scraping some of the slim off, knobs bulged from his sides making his skin look like it was bubbling alive. Four insect legs pushed their way past the surface and into the dark space. They were slim, but strong, half the width of his arm. They had three segments, shakily folded themselves against his body, the tips facing downwards.

The clothes that had been ripped, and those that have fallen off him, crawled back up his body in a liquid state. It wrapped itself around his waist, chest, heels, and wrists, glowing with a gentle whiteness making his scales a bright sapphire. It sickened him how the parasite could easily transform and manipulate fabric and armor as well as a body.

His body.

A black mane then sprung up between the spikes. It started from his face and ended at his tail; from there, it fanned open making his hairy tail drift even more.

Hair was also on his elbows, knees, and heels, weaving through the spikes. His goatee became bristlier with some spikes jutting out from it, while his eyebrows grew coarser, the tips changing into spikes. Around his face the hair became like a mane, fanning out towards his shoulders.

The glimmering fabric then finally modified itself to match the state it was once before with a few changes. Finally, he let his body heave with a great sign.

The world then obscured itself into darkness.

He gradually opens his eyes and finds himself sprawled across the floor. He stiffly looks at his hands hoping it was nothing more than a nightmare of what he had perceived.

But he was sorely wrong; his hands was still that of a monster's, as was the rest of him. Closing his eyes shut, he pounds the floor with his fist and allows a minor growl to escape. Why the hell did this have to happen to me?

He weakly drags himself towards the wall next to the door. Leaning himself against it, he slowly observes the room. The lights had turned back on.

Looking at the floor and adjacent walls, no gash marks could be seen. Now things were becoming stranger than usual. He always left some kind of mark. Usually shredded tables, disfigured paper; even the ceiling was sometimes taken out.

He lifts his right hand folding the rest of his fingers except the index. He then pushes it into the floor and pulls it backwards for a few seconds. Screeching racket bounced off of the walls until the room was roaring with noise. He lifts his hand back up to observe his work. There in the floor was a deeply cut mark. It had some rough edges, but remained a perfect horizontal line.

So then, why was the room not covered in them and nothing destroyed?

(back in the security room...)

"What is it, Baird?" Cole asked him, huddling around the one monitor that Baird had frozen the image on. It was Marcus throwing something at the camera. Dom and Sam stood by too, gazing intently at the screen.

Baird then looks at them and said, "Have you guys noticed Marcus' sporadic behavior recently?" When no one replied he continued on, lacing his voice heavily with sarcasm. "He hasn't been acting nice lately, okay? Just earlier, he was about ready to murder me."

Dom then smiles saying, "He has wanted to do that for a while." The others just laughed. Baird glares at them saying, "He was about ready to rip his hands into my face. They were curled up like claws. I'm not 100% sure, but there actually might be something wrong with the perfect solider."

All the humor in the room dissipated. It was as if his words struck painful cords. "What are you trying to say?" Dom asked, anguish heavy in his voice, "You think Marcus is finally breaking under the pressure? Or he caught a virus?"

"It's more like I know he has caught something." Baird said.

"And what makes you say that?" asked Sam. She took a step towards the screen, trying to find whatever ailed Marcus. "How do you know he isn't just overly exhausted? It does happen to all of us."

"Because," Baird replied, "when have you seen white spots appear on someone's face when they're about to fall asleep?" He points his finger to the white orbs that glazed over parts of Marcus' face.

Dom reaches forward to click the recording a few seconds backwards. Sure enough, the white spots didn't move from where they were, until he stopped the video to where Marcus had closed the door. The white orbs weren't there.

"Wait." Baird said as he took control of the computer. Everyone leaned forward to watch the monitor as Baird played the last bit of video feed. All of them suddenly gasped. The orbs on his face had opened up like eyes as soon as Marcus slouched against the door. They stood there for a few seconds, shocked.

Then hell broke loss.

"Baird, get that video back online," Dom bellowed as he scrambled towards the exit. "Sam, stay here with Baird and notify Cole and me if anything new happens. Cole, come with me."

Dom and Cole then raced out of the security room, down the hall, and around the corner towards the workshop. What's going on? Dom fearfully thought. Screams and colliding objects suddenly sounded from one of the other halls causing both Cole and Dom to freeze in place.

"I'll go check it out," Cole said as he turned, pulling his Lancer out, and started to rush down the other pathway," go check on Marcus…" Before Dom could object, Cole was gone and hidden by the screams and gun fire. He then turns and begins to rush faster to the workshop. Hang on Marcus….


End file.
